


(i've got the) Book of Love

by General_Syndulla



Category: The Goldfinch (2019)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Married Characters, Mutual Masturbation, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 07:15:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21114851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/General_Syndulla/pseuds/General_Syndulla
Summary: While cleaning, Boris finds an old diary of Theo's. But he gets caught by Theo while reading through it... He has to be very creative to escape Theo's wrath. ;) A little fluff, and a little smut!





	(i've got the) Book of Love

He hadn’t meant to necessarily _read_ the book like this. At least not when he had first found it. Honestly, his intention had only been to pick it up so he could finish the dusting in their room. But of course, curiosity had gotten the better of him after he looked over the cover. And Boris had never been any good at denying his curiosity. It was part of what always got him in trouble. He tugged at the scratchy hem of his old black shirt as he sat on the bed, Theo’s side of the bed.

It was a rather dingey-looking thing. At first glance, Boris had mistaken it as being one of Theo’s old books that he was always bringing home, the dusty old things that Boris privately thought were a waste of money. But he couldn’t deny the smile on his darling’s face made his own heart feel like smiling, too.

The binding was a bit loose, and the cover looked like it used to be red but was so worn away now that it looked almost orange. Faded and half-peeled away stickers covered a corner here, an off-center edge there. Something had been written on the front but then crossed and scribbled out of existence in a different color of ink later on.

Boris then made a mistake, which was flipping open the cover of the worn old book.

Inside, on the very first page, he saw a vaguely familiar scrawl. He squinted down at it, one of his bouncy dark curls falling over his forehead, reading the line over and over before finally recognizing the handwriting’s owner. It was Theo’s handwriting. But not his Theo now. His Theo from over a decade before, his Theo from the Nevadan desert, his Theo from their long nights together drunk on his father’s vodka samplers and watching shitty old movies on his tiny television set.

_ **PRIVATE  
KEEP OUT** _

The childish scribble made Boris smile. It was slightly messy, slightly loopy, but with just an air of hidden confidence and finesse in the lines that belied Theo’s previously higher education and upper-class city upbringing. He wondered absentmindedly if his family had enrolled him in any special handwriting classes.

The writing in the beginning pages, slightly torn and sometimes mysteriously stained, was childish and yet still neater than his own had been at any age.

Boris flipped casually through the worn pages, his dark curls shifting across his forehead as he tilted his head back and forth to look at all of the different things written, sideways and across and all along the corners in some places. Sometimes Theo had used the book as a diary. Other times it would appear he was using it as more like a sketchbook or a book of poems.

A line or two of sloppy rhymes here.

Excerpts from whatever book he had been reading written into a corner.

Favored quotes, silly little logos and designs scratched in there.

Boris chuckled softly as he read the words written on the thinning pages. The indifferent self-pity of youth practically oozed from the pages. But Boris had to remind himself that Theo had a lot more to feel frustrated and upset about than perhaps the average teen. Some of it was certainly warranted.

At first innocent laughter gave way to a dull ache under his ribcage, his heart breaking all over again for that boy he had met in his English literature class so long ago. Of course, Boris’s life hadn’t been too great either but how could he focus on his own issues when the person he loved so much, his Theo, had so much worse to deal with.

After all, he had been the only person Boris had ever felt he truly loved. So he had been willing to sacrifice for him, willing to lay anything on the line to keep Theo safe and happy, both back then and now. Their life together was considerably cushier than their lives had been with their fathers when they had first met. Boris couldn’t help but be reminded of this as he read over the poetry, and as trite as it might seem at first glance, Boris knew firsthand that it came from a place of true and deep pain.

_…keeping these things bottled inside might just be the death of me,  
in a world so dark and cruel, a light at the end of the tunnel i just can’t see…_

As he read through further, he suddenly felt surprised to see his own face staring back at him. A rough little sketch of a young boy whose face was splashed with freckles and a lopsided and mischievous grin. A sort of smirk that Theo contended Boris still wore even today almost fifteen years later. It wasn’t a _true_ likeness, kind of cartoonish, but rendered well enough that Boris knew who it was. Boris chuckled softly as he flipped through the book, squinting down at the pages as the handwriting became more and more recognizable.

Soon nearing the end of the book, Boris realized he was reading small paragraphs and little transcripts, receipts, notes, in Theo’s handwriting. Like, handwriting that Boris could go and see on their fridge’s notepad right now. Or in the little wedding anniversary note Boris kept folded up in his wallet underneath his U.S. I.D. card.

The entries were still sparse and sometimes had upwards of months between, but the writing and content were unmistakably current. Looking over one or two of the entries, Boris realized he was reading Theo’s recounting of a particularly brutal customer they had dealt with in the antiques shop that previous winter. A rather nasty old man that gave Theo and Boris a spectacularly hard time about the price of a dresser.

_…and Boris handled himself better than I’ve ever seen him before. His polite smile was put-on but I was probably the only one that could really tell, which is all that matters when it comes to what happens with the shop..._

Boris snorted a laugh as he felt like Theo’s voice was audibly echoing from the page. The slightly curly, fine printing was so dear and familiar to him. Made his heart feel swollen with love. How Boris so loved him. More entries in the following pages. Small sketches of Boris, small sketches of their little pet dog.

_…Boris didn’t mean it like that, but I wish he would just be more careful about how he talks to me. It’s so frustrating when he just talks out of his ass like that…_

Boris’s heart felt even fuller and he let himself laugh louder at that. His Theo writing here about their arguments, their small squabbles that seemed so desperate and serious in the moment but were forgotten in the sheets that very night. Rarely dragging things into the next morning. Neither man liked to go to bed angry, and they had agreed long ago to try not to do so whenever possible.

There were even quotes from him, Boris, inside, which shocked him in a delightful way. He grinned as his eyes scanned over the little scrawlings, some with little doodles of him and speech bubbles, some only written on plainly, and still others tucked in between complaints and numbers for the shop, the journal used alike as scrap paper at times.

_”all i could think about today was coming home to you”_

_“you are as beautiful as freshly fallen snow, you make me feel like i am at the top of the tallest mountain”_

_”you mean more to me than i can ever explain in any words in any language, sparrow”_

On paper like this, Boris felt like his words were so sappy. But the fact that Theo had felt them important enough to tuck away in privacy here like this, written for him to read over and over again, made him feel so warm inside. Maybe he needed to say those things more often. Boris loved to wax poetic about him, borrow passages from their favorite poets and writers, tack them onto Theo late at night in bed like little sticky notes.

He was so amused by reading it that he didn’t hear the soft pad of Theo’s feet on the floor, coming into the room behind him. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his long nose, he squinted over Boris’s shoulder to see what he was doing. About to ask him aloud, his heart sank as he realized what Boris was holding. Without a word, he reached over his shoulder and snatched the book away by its corner.

“What the hell is wrong with you?? Why are you going through my shit?!”

Boris’s dark eyes were wide as he whipped around to look up at Theo, his mouth opening to start explaining. But Theo wouldn’t listen yet. He shoved at Boris’s shoulder, tucking the diary against his chest. Theo turned away from him and started toward the door but stopped short. He looked at Boris over his shoulder, his eyes slightly shiny with frustrated tears behind his big black-framed glasses.

He had stopped himself, about to storm off in a quiet rage. But he had been trying to work on not isolating himself. Theo knew it made Boris worry like crazy, that communication was always better in moments like that. But sometimes, Theo could be the fierier of the two and worried about what he might say. He soon came correct.

“Boris… Don’t go through my stuff like that. I…”

Theo seemed unable to finish the sentence. Boris could tell he was really angry because of how red his ears and his forehead were getting. He looked down at the rumpled sheets on the bed, brow furrowed. He truly felt sorry for doing it, but wasn’t sure Theo would believe him when he said he hadn’t realized it was such a personal belonging at first.

“You have to listen… I didn’t realize what that book was. Not at first.” He started to explain, lifting his chin to look up at his husband again. Theo’s face looked skeptical. Boris had to remind himself that he had every right to feel that way. He bit his lip to keep from snapping back at him before continuing. “But I should have stopped once I did. That, I will admit.” Boris nodded at his last words, turning his body to face Theo, stretching his legs over the side of the bed.

“I am sorry. It’s not my intention to go snooping through things.”

Theo’s glasses moved up the bridge of his nose as his face scrunched up slightly. Boris was right in his assumption. Theo didn’t seem to necessarily believe that. But it _was_ the truth. He sighed, carding a hand through his messy hair. “I know, I know sparrow, it was just a stupid thing to do. And I’m so sorry, really I am. I need to respect your privacy.” Boris reasoned with another apology.

It had taken them some time to get this far. Years of fights, vicious yelling and even physicality on occasion. Both had been forced to grow up before their time, and as a result both men had often had to resort to being absolutely vile to protect themselves. As in love as they were, it had taken a lot of mutual and built up experiences to realize that they could trust one another to be soft with the other.

But then that familiar grin spread across his delicate features, mischief and sarcasm dripping from him like a tangible aura. “But. In my defense, you should not leave your little diary out where I can just get my hands on it any old time I want to!” Boris pointed his finger at him and waggled it playfully. Theo tossed the book on the dresser next to the door and tackled Boris on the bed, the two of them wrestling.

Peals of laughter from both echoed through the room as Boris pinned Theo underneath himself, not so strong as the taller man but lithe and agile and very tricky as a result of far too much experience street fighting. “Ah? I win! To no one’s surprise, not even my own.” Boris joked as he leaned down to softly press his lips along Theo’s mouth, kissing from corner to corner. Theo only grunted in response, begrudgingly allowing himself to kiss back, wrists held at his sides by Boris’s hands.

“You’re a bastard.” Theo could only murmur as Boris lavished kisses down his handsome jawline, along his neck, suckling sweetly at the soft skin there. “Mmhm…” Boris hummed absentmindedly as he stroked his hands down Theo’s strong arms, muscular from all the physical labor in the antiques workshop. When he released his lover’s hands, he felt them stroke down his sides and hold at his hips.

Boris smiled into Theo’s skin, rubbing his cool palms underneath Theo’s smart paisley button-up shirt, carefully unbuttoning it open from the bottom. Theo and his annoying way of dressing as stylishly as possible. All they were doing today was lying around the house and _maybe_ catching up on some of the store purchasing paperwork, after the light cleaning. Boris would wear a ratty t-shirt and sweats if he wasn’t going anywhere, but Theo seemed to dress perhaps more for himself than anyone else.

He smiled down at Theo’s chest under his shirt as he finally finished with the last button, leaning down to gently suckle one of his nipples into his wet and soft mouth. He felt Theo shiver and a low moan echo from his throat as his body arched upward and into Boris. He smiled down at him, sitting up on one hand as he slid his fingers down to the waistband of his black trousers, unclipping and pulling the belt open before sneaking them underneath. Theo’s hands were tangling in his messy dark curls.

“What can I possibly do for you to forgive me, my beloved…?” Boris pouted down at Theo, dark eyes shimmering as he tilted his head at him. Theo rolled his eyes and shook his head with a stuttering laugh. “You are nothing but trouble, Boris.” He playfully shoved at Boris’s hip, and Boris met his hand with a rather exaggerated push forward. “Mmmm, so I have been told.” He agreed as he dove down to pay more attention to Theo’s other nipple.

Beneath the dark tweed fabric of his trousers Boris’s hand found the outline of his cock in his underwear. He stroked along his shaft, feeling his flesh hardening with excitement beneath. Boris licked his way between Theo’s pecs, humming with delight as he felt the muscles swell and ripple beneath his soft skin. Boris loved to get Theo all excited. It felt good to have the love of his life hanging onto his every word, his every action.

He wrapped his slender fingers around his thick base and started to gently stroke him, rubbing his thumb along the underside as he ran up and down his full length. He’d have to open the fly sooner or later. Once he was hard, he was always too big for whatever he was wearing. It was one of the things Boris loved best about him, physically anyway, his large cock. Boris stroked his tongue along the freckles on Theo’s chest, delighting in the way Theo squirmed and how his big hands were gripping in Boris’s hair as he softly begged under his breath, _more, more, more_. A slow fire of pleasure was building beneath Theo’s bellybutton.

Boris sat up, grinding their hips together, biting his lip as he grinned down at him. “Feels good… Being with you always feels so good my love…” Boris mumbled as he unbuttoned Theo’s pants, pulling his member from between the zippered opening. Out in the open now, Boris’s wrist flicked as he stroked faster from his base to his leaking tip, stroking his foreskin away to thumb and spread open his wet slit. Theo moaned and clutched the bed underneath himself, one of his hands crawling its way to Boris’s thigh to hold him tightly. Boris held Theo’s hip, half-pinning him to the bed as he stroked his thumb along the hard line of his hip bone.

With his other hand, he pulled his own dick out from the opening in his grey sweats, already getting heavier and half-hard. Boris nestled closer, straddling Theo’s hips as he pressed his cock to Theo’s, the contrast a delightful thing to gaze upon. Boris was a decent enough length, perhaps nearly a respectable seven inches, with a thick base and a rosy and easily excitable head.

But Theo’s dick was a work of art, and Boris liked to make him blush by comparing it to all his fancy gallery art he so loved, saying pictures of it should hang in all the best museums. It was especially heavy at his base, but it kept a generally wide girth his whole length, and was well over eight inches. It was big and strong and heavy like its owner. Boris loved to lavish attention on it, ride on it, pet it, anything. Boris really meant it when he said it was like an art piece to him.

He pressed himself into Theo, the two of them lying on the mattress, his hand wrapped around both of their cocks, Theo dripping precome onto him in syrupy and thick drops. Each time Boris reached the tip of his cock, a shock of satisfaction milked more precome from him. Boris slowly licked his lips as he watched, moving his hips into him in time with his hand. “Feel so good baby, love the way you get so horny when I touch you…” Theo blushed and shook his head. He never knew what to say. Boris was always better at talking than him.

“Like it so much when you touch me…” It was all he could come up with, stammering slightly. Boris would never make fun of him for his lack of talking in bed, of course. He knew it too, that he was always the better talker. It was why he ran the business side of things in the shop. “Yeah, I can tell, look at how sticky this big dick is.” Boris playfully swiped his thumb across the opening in Theo’s tip, spreading it open for a moment to watch another drop of his fluid well up. Boris was muttering in rushed Russian and Polish when he wasn’t breathing too hard to talk, the only other sound the wet and steady rhythm of his hand on their dicks.

Theo only blushed and looked away with a quiet cry, spurring Boris on. Exactly the type of reaction he loved. He grinned and leaned closer to softly kiss Theo, his mouth gentle and not at all matching the rhythm of his hand rubbing them. “You don’t need to say anything my love, your pretty cock tells me all I need to know.” Boris muttered huskily into his mouth. His free hand strayed from Theo’s strong hip to gently stroke along his hard abs and up his ribs, finding one of his nipples and teasing the hardened bump so delicately between his fingertips. Just hard enough to send jolts of pleasure through him, but not so hard Theo would protest.

Theo could feel Boris’s member throbbing and dripping against his own, their secretions mixing together much the same way their saliva was, desperately meeting tongues and gentle gasps shared in the space between their lips.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come…” Theo whined at him, almost complaining more than he was telling him. Boris grinned and softly kissed at Theo’s chin, down the line of his jaw. “Good, I gotta make it up to you after all, don’t I…?” Boris murmured, making Theo huff.

He liked to annoy him just a little bit, liked to be a little rougher with his approach at times, push Theo to that point that he pushed him back. He liked for a little push back. Kept things exciting. He started to grind his hips into Theo again, more deliberately as his hand worked them both over. He felt Theo bumping back, excitement starting to override the frustration he had at first felt for the other man.

Boris tilted his head back as he sat up against Theo. He laughed softly, the spirited sound melting into excited moans as he started to approach his own orgasm. “Mmm you first my love, I want to see your beautiful finish…” Boris murmured as he pulled Theo’s cock from his base to his leaky tip, the pleasure like sparks in Theo’s cock. He always pushed for Theo to come first, the sight, the sounds of Theo’s shuddering breaths, it was all Boris needed to reach his own finish line.

Theo’s grip tightened on Boris’s thigh. His toes curled, the muscles of his legs tightening as his hips met Boris’s own, met his hands with a slightly errant desperation. His eyes rolled, his pouty lips parted as he moaned and breathed harder, harder. He looked totally blissed out, almost like when they were rolling together on percs. Boris loved that he had that effect on Theo.

He nuzzled his nose into the crook of Theo’s neck, humming appreciatively as Theo started to come hard, spouting creamy white over his closed fist and dripping down their shafts. Boris muttered praises to him in a mix of languages. Boris wasn’t far behind him, feeling the fuzzy heat in his belly surging through him as he squirted his release on himself and Theo, their come sliding down in a drippy mess.

Boris slowly licked his lips as he watched, gently pulling his hand away from Theo’s trembling chest and humming as he leaned over to grab a tissue from his nightstand. He stroked them both until Theo’s thighs started to squirm with sensitivity, grinning as he gently pulled away and wiped his hand clean. He mopped up Theo’s messy abs too. “Nice job, dearest…” Boris complimented, raising an eyebrow at him playfully.

“Don’t go through my shit like that.” Theo repeated again in a slight stammer, his glasses slightly fogged and his face still so red as he tried to catch his breath. Boris bit his lip and couldn’t help his usual easy and playful smile. “No promises Любовь моя.” He playfully bopped the tip of Theo’s nose with his finger.

Theo only groaned exasperatedly in response, the two of them rolling over in bed together, joined at the hands and laughing into each other’s shoulders.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out cute and maybe a bit angsty, and then some smut got thrown in. whoops! Thanks for reading<3 :)


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